


A Window Open to the Night

by Knowmefirst, mainecoon76



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Mutants and Society, Mystery, all is well at the beginning, also features two characters from comic canon, but things escalate quickly, mention of Janos/OFC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-05 22:06:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6725353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst/pseuds/Knowmefirst, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mainecoon76/pseuds/mainecoon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things have gone well for Charles in the nineteen months that have passed since Washington. The school is prospering, his family is united again, and mutants are widely accepted as equal members of society. Everything changes on a summer night in early August: without warning, his life begins to fall apart, and Charles struggles to prevent a disaster. It takes him some time to realize what - or who - he is truly fighting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Window Open to the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the pre-Apocalypse X-Men minibang. The awesome graphics were created by [knowmefirst](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst/pseuds/Knowmefirst) \- will also posted on her account very soon, so they can be kudos'd independently. Also, there'll be more. xD .
> 
> This is a sequel to [The Spaces Between](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5266943/chapters/12153149), but it can stand alone. At the beginning of this fic most issues have been resolved, Charles/Erik are established, Hank/Raven are established, Alex and Janos help Charles run the school, and everything is sunshine and daisies. But...
> 
> ... WARNING: People may or may not die in this one. There is also a consensual sex scene that turns disturbing for one of the participants for reasons outside the other's control. 
> 
> Once again HUGE thanks to my wonderful beta mrs_sweetpeach, AKA Haven, who pulled my out of a funk, brushed up this story and helped me find a title. Said title is taken from one of Edgar Allan Poe's poems - more on that at the end. Also, two persons in this fic are loosely based on comic characters; again, more on that at the end.

Charles wakes in the middle of the night. 

It is no gentle drifting to the surface, no slow return of consciousness that happens sometimes when an aching shoulder or a pressing need demands the attention of the waking mind. Instead he jerks up with a start and heaves himself to an elbow to look around. His bedroom appears unchanged and silent. Erik snores softly beside him; Erik with his hypervigilance and borderline paranoia, who can smell danger within a fifty mile radius. Pale moonlight streams through a gap in the curtains and illuminates the silvery outlines of his furniture. He stretches his mind, but there is no foreign presence in the mansion. Students and teachers are sleeping peacefully in their beds. 

He hesitates for a moment before he decides to trust his instincts. These days it doesn't take much effort to transfer into the wheelchair. Erik just rolls over and mumbles something indistinguishable, which is unusual because his friend is a very light sleeper. He must have been dead on his feet when he returned from Los Angeles the previous day.

Charles leaves the room and moves silently along the corridor. It is dark and empty; he can tell that no one is here, nor has been for a few hours. The only sound that disrupts the silence is a soft rattle from the far end of the floor. An open window moves in the wind and knocks against its frame, clack, clack, clack-clack-clack. Charles frowns. He should have noticed this when he made his round earlier that evening, but Erik is back, so he may have been a little distracted.

He closes the window and listens, but there is nothing except silence and emptiness. The night air is cool and makes him shiver. He pulls his dressing gown tighter around his shoulders and wheels back into his bedroom, where Erik's body is warm and comfortable and the presence of his mind is a steady hum in Charles' thoughts.

For a long while he lies awake in the darkness and wills himself to fall asleep. 

 

A bright and sunny morning lets the worries of the night fade quickly. The kitchen smells of coffee when Charles arrives for breakfast, and Raven and Janos are busy laying the table for the five students who remained at school during the summer holidays. His sister smiles at him and points her head at the tea kettle that is already heating on the stove. Hank fiddles with the radio, cursing quietly about some technical malfunction, and Charles feels Erik's presence move towards them, cheerful and refreshed after his morning run. 

Charles enjoys their moment of quiet serenity before a horde of children trample down the stairs to demand cocoa. It is hard to believe that two years ago he could not even be sure it was summer, because he was watching - or rather ignoring the world from behind thick curtains and through a haze of alcohol while Hank despaired quietly beside him. How far they have come, and in so little time.

The radio emits a few shrill noises, upon which Erik rolls his eyes, takes it out of Hank's claws and bangs it hard on the table. 

"Oh, _please_ ," Hank protests, but the signal suddenly clears of static.

"... killing thirty-nine people in the process. Witnesses report that that the metal pillars of the bridge literally melted right before their eyes. The investigations are ongoing, but the nature of the attack brings to mind the events in January '73, when the mutant terrorist known as Magneto declared war on humanity. Magneto's current location is unknown, but the police are searching for him as a prime subject whose capture is declared the highest priority. The authorities also warn of uncontrolled actions of revenge against the mutant population. Further reports are expected today, and we will of course keep you informed. And now here's Carlotta Parson with the weather report…"

The voice is choked off by a wave of Erik's hand. For a moment all five of them remain silent, then Janos narrows his eyes at Erik.

"The last thing we needed right now," he says. "Do you know of anyone else who can control metal?"

Erik leans back in his chair and lets a fork spin circles in front of him.

"No," he returns, not looking particularly concerned.

Charles staples his fingers. "So," he says with more bravado than he feels, but he is the headmaster of this school and expected to be in charge. "Just in case anyone was getting bored over summer break - it looks like there's work for us to do."

Hank gives him a sharp glance, which he pretends not to notice. His best friend may not be a mind-reader, but he always knows when something unsettles Charles more than he lets on.

 

Alex calls later that afternoon. 

"I don't think there's reason to break off our vacation," he says, "but I thought I'd let you know that things are tense around here. Scott's getting weird looks. Weirder than usual, that is."

"People are shocked," Charles admits. "For now it's probably the best to pretend that nothing's happened. It's not our fault if there's a mutant running rampant again…"

"I'm not keeping my little brother out of Disney World because some crackpot's melting bridges," Alex huffs.

"But," Charles continues, "we don't know if they're finished. We'll try to find them, but if something else happens it might be best if you come home."

"Scott's been looking forward to this trip for months."

"I know you both have. Still, don't take any risks, Alex, do you hear me?"

"Sure thing, boss."

Charles puts down the receiver and picks at some poppy petals that litter the phone table like small puddles of blood. Someone put a pretty arrangement of summer flowers in a vase, but they should have known better than to add poppies. The blossoms do not last long. 

He can only hope that Alex knows what he is doing.

 

A raging headache wakes him again the next night.

This is not exactly a surprise. He spent almost three hours in Cerebro, sorting through hundreds of mutant minds in New York City to find the one who caused the disaster. He had never known there to be so many. Eventually they had all blended into one, so he'd begun to wonder if he was, in fact, shifting through the same few mutants over and over again.

He'd gone to bed after that.

Now it must be near three in the morning and he feels like his head is about to explode. It takes him a moment longer to realize that he is alone. Erik is no longer sleeping beside him.

It probably means he is using the bathroom or, more likely, feels restless and is wandering the silent corridors of the mansion to clear his head. He does that sometimes. Charles sends a quick, questioning thought in his general direction, expecting a reassuring answer from Erik's well-known frequency. There is no reply.

With growing unease he stretches his senses to encompass the mansion and the grounds. The others are all asleep. Janos dreams of fire and death and the dissected wings of a dragonfly; Charles calms him with a thought. Hank and Raven's minds are closely entwined, almost as if they are sharing a dream. Erik is nowhere to be found.

There is no reason to panic, Charles tells himself angrily, but he still heaves himself into the wheelchair and makes his way along the silent corridor. In the dim light a shadow seems to move at the end of the floor, but he cannot feel the presence of a mind. A soft rattle disturbs the silence, and Charles moves closer, cautiously, as quietly as the wheelchair allows. It is definitely a man who moves away from the window, but there is nothing where his thoughts should be.

He must wake the others.

Before Charles can send the telepathic equivalent of a school-wide alarm, the man turns and walks towards Charles. His face is clearly visible in the half-light, and suddenly his presence hits Charles like a wave. It is Erik.

For a moment Charles feels a rush of frantic worry that is not his own, a telepathic cry that rings through his mind - 

_Charles, please!_  

\- but it stops as suddenly as it came, leaving only the simmering tension of Erik's mind. His friend steps towards him and frowns.

"Charles! Is everything alright?"

"I don't think so." 

Erik crouches beside the wheelchair and takes his hand. He looks young in his grey pajamas, when the twilight of the moon smooths over the lines on his face.

"I couldn't sleep," he explains. "The window was open, so I closed it. We have to be more careful about that, especially on this floor, it's no great feat to get in." He runs a thumb over Charles' knuckles. "What's bothering you?"

"I couldn't feel you. Your presence was gone. Now it's back."

Erik frowns. "You think something is inhibiting your telepathy?"

"I'm not sure yet." Charles massages his temples. His head still hurts viciously. "Just - come back to bed."

"As you wish," Erik replies with faint amusement and leans in for a kiss. Charles closes his eyes and bans all other thoughts.

 

A mix of negative emotions radiates from the kitchen when Charles prepares for the day the following morning. It is so intense that he can feel it in his own bathroom, so he quickly struggles into yesterday's clothes and drags a wet comb through his hair. He has to look half-way respectable to any student who might cross his path, but the details will have to wait.

He finds Hank and Erik glaring at each other over the kitchen table. Raven is leaning against the table with her blue back turned on both, pretending to read the newspaper but projecting a black cloud of anger. Janos sips his coffee and attempts to look nonchalant. He is the only one who looks up when Charles enters.

"There were three mutant attacks last night," he says coolly, as if to explain the freezing atmosphere. "New York, San Francisco, Las Vegas, fifty-three casualties altogether. Plus twelve mutants who were murdered in alleged cases of vigilante justice. Anti-mutant radicals are getting out of control."

"So fast?" Charles rolls to the table and buries his face in his hands. "Things were fine two days ago. People were beginning to accept us…"

"You know how quickly a crowd can turn," Erik says bitterly. "They were waiting for something like this to happen. Look how eager they are to get rid of us."

"Not _they_ ," Hank growls, his golden eyes flashing dangerously. "Some of them. They have their extremists and we have ours, don't we, Erik?"

"Did you miss the part where they murdered innocents just for revenge?" Erik's snarl shows far too many teeth, and Charles startles when his wheelchair begins to wobble dangerously.

"Enough of this," he interrupts them sharply. "We can't stop this if we're fighting one another too. Now give me the details, and we'll figure out what to do."

Hank sneers but bites off his retort. Erik leans back and crosses his arms, his mind burning with fury.

 _Keep calm_ , Charles tells him. _I need you in this._

Erik ignores him.

Instead Raven turns and shoves the paper into his general direction. "I'm going for a walk," she declares, then adds with a pointed look at Hank, "Are you coming?"

Hank grabs his cup and follows her without another word.

Charles sighs and leans back in his chair. "He's conflicted," he tells Erik, and he understands very well because Hank's feelings mirror his own. Of course Erik takes a more radical stance. It has only been seven months since they reached a tentative understanding, and Erik never promised to agree to Charles' views. He just broadened his mind to the possibility that there may be some good in humanity, and that, given the relatively peaceful circumstances, it is not justified to take action against them as a species. These new developments might well threaten their arrangement. It will take more to shake Raven, or so he hopes.

Janos quietly places a cup of tea in front of him, which Charles did not even notice him prepare. Then he points at the paper. "Shall we get to work?"

Charles gives him a grateful smile. It is good to have one sane person left in the house.

 

The day passes in nervous activity while all of them pretend to the students that there is no reason to worry. This strategy is doomed to fail because the kids are not stupid, and also because Jean happens to be a telepath. The children spend the day in the gardens, playing games, gathering summer flowers and occasionally stopping to have sandwiches and lemonade on the terrace. All of them give the adults weird looks, but they don't ask, still confident that there can't be a problem the grown-ups are unable to solve. Charles is grateful for their trust.

By late afternoon he has secured himself an appointment with the mayor of New York for the following day, thanks to his renown as a mutant activist and intellectual. He has also contacted several acquaintances throughout the country who may be able to gather information about the attacks or the curiously quick reaction of human extremist groups. Moira McTaggert risks her job when she relays him the complete CIA reports of the New York incidents. Logan has his enhanced senses turned towards the mutant scene in San Francisco. Alex grudgingly agrees to break off his vacation and return to the mansion, but it turns out that he cannot because the airport of Miami is temporarily closed. 

"There was a minor incident that caused them to fear an attack," Charles tells the others during a pre-dinner planning session in his office. The evening sun paints warm flecks of light onto the dark wood of the paneling. It could be such a beautiful day. "Alex will find out as much as possible and keep us informed. They'll be with us again tomorrow at lunchtime."

"Good," says Erik and folds his arms over his chest. "They aren't safe out there."

"And we'll need him once you and Raven go into the field again," Hank points out, scowling, his claws tapping an irregular rhythm against his coffee cup. They make a sharp, clicking sound. Charles fights the urge to make him stop.

Raven gives him a tense smile. "We'll make it quick," she says, although they all know this to be a useless promise. "We have to, if we don't want it to spread outside of the US. I talked to Lydia - she's Kurt's foster mother," she adds towards Erik. "They're watching and worried, but right now things are quiet."

"Very well." Charles taps his pen onto the desk. "We need more data before we send you out, let's hope we have it by tomorrow. I'll give Cerebro another try after dinner, so I'd be very grateful for your assistance, Hank. I think that's all we can do for now."

Raven stands gracefully, steps behind him and kisses his hair. "We're all giving our best, Charles," she tells him. Then she leans over his shoulder, her soft laughter vibrating against his temple. "I never knew you were an artist."

Charles looks down at his own notes. He recorded the most important points of the discussion, as he made his habit during the past year that they have had a school to lead. But below the writing is a picture, drawn in the dark ink of his pen and in his own bold hand. He must have scribbled it, absent-mindedly as one does sometimes, but the strange thing is that he has no memory of it.

Elegantly curling on the page is the transparent, delicate form of a poppy.

 

Things go from bad to worse that night.

Janos decides to go to the movies with his human girlfriend, who lives nearby and has a teaching position at the school during term. The others spend the evening in the living room, pretending to talk but effectively watching news specials on TV. They do not lift anyone's spirits. A wave of fear and violence has gripped the country. Police presence has been enhanced for the night in fear of further attacks, and meanwhile three more mutants were killed on the street by militant extremists in broad daylight.

Charles is stretched out on the settee with his unfeeling feet on Erik's thighs. Erik massages them without actually paying attention, which is undoubtedly good for the blood flow so Charles won't complain. What worries him more is the anger boiling just below the surface of Erik's mind. He can understand it on a rational level, but to deal with this crisis they will need clear heads more than anything. Anger might well drive Erik to a place where Charles cannot follow. They never wanted to go there again.

Even worse is the way Erik's mind slips out of focus, as if Charles' telepathy cannot grasp him any longer. Charles usually makes an effort to stay out of his friends' minds, but he always feels their presence colored by their mood. He has not actually lost Erik, not the way he did last night, but his mind keeps slipping away even when the man is clearly sitting beside him. It reminds Charles of the helmet. Something must be wrong with either him or Erik, but there is hardly time to find out while they are facing a nation-wide political crisis. He will discuss it with Hank.

At half past eleven Charles decides to retire. 

"I'll call Olga to make sure Janos stays the night," he informs his friends as he heaves himself into his chair. "I'd rather not have him stroll around after dark."

"He doesn't have a visible mutation," Hank points out.

"Yes, but people know us around here." Raven scowls and turns her head so she can look at him from her comfortable position on Hank's lap. Hank runs a claw through her slick red hair.

"Most of them like us."

Both Raven and Erik bristle at that. Charles feels the mood shift and knows they are heading towards an argument that will not lead anywhere. "Better safe than sorry," he says diplomatically and heads towards the phone.

Olga remains silent for too long after Charles has voiced his request. Then she tells him very quietly that Janos dropped her off an hour ago, and should have been home for at least thirty minutes.

They search for him for hours. Raven and Erik drive to Olga's house and back, again and again, determined to turn every stone on the way. The police turn up with flashing blue lights to question Olga and her neighbors; they search the bushes and ditches along the way and Charles refuses to believe they could find what they expect to find. He and Hank return to Cerebro, where Charles checks every person in the vicinity. He comes across families cuddling in bed, friends sharing a movie, strangers having sex, a freshly married couple engaged in a screaming match, and many people asleep in their beds. There is no trace of Janos. Still he keeps trying, on and on, through an endless assembly of minds.

He has lost all sense of time and place when the voices in his head come to a halt. Strong arms lift him out of his chair to carry him away, and he buries his face in soft blue fur and breathes the familiar scent of Hank's aftershave. Then he is gently placed on a bed and there are hushed voices, Hank and Erik, Hank's presence a warm hum but Erik's slippery like a living eel. Someone pulls a blanket over him, and he falls into a fitful sleep.

 

Again he wakes in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, his head pounding. Dimly he remembers a graveyard overgrown with blazing poppies, an open window that could not be closed, and how Erik was gone and nowhere to be found.

He turns to look around. He is in his own bed, Erik sleeping restlessly beside him. As he stretches his mind he feels Raven and Hank in the kitchen, awake, anxious, still hoping for a call. Janos has not returned.

Quietly he pulls on his dressing gown and moves into the wheelchair. The corridor outside is dark and empty, merely a faint light visible from the creak under the kitchen door. Charles wheels to the far end of the floor and checks the window, but it is closed.

He remains in the darkness for a while, listening, trying to perceive anything out of the ordinary. The corridor is silent. He cannot feel a foreign presence in the mansion, and if the shadows seem to move just outside his field of vision, surely that is a trick of light.

He feels as if he is being watched.

 

Erik stirs when Charles rearranges his own body next to him. He looks tense and handsome in his sleep, haunted by demons Charles never managed to defeat. Their closeness is a gift granted after many years of bitterness and anger, and Charles can only pray that this time their happiness will last.

If only he could properly feel the presence of Erik's mind.

He runs one hand over the side of Erik's face, down his throat, along the flat planes of his chest. Erik's hand grips his wrist in one fluid motion, and for a moment they stare at each other in the dark, silent and waiting. Then Erik pushes him down and rolls on top of him, firmly but mindful of Charles' legs. He kisses Charles hungrily and Charles allows it, even as Erik rips a few buttons off his pajama shirt, runs his palms roughly along Charles' chest, tweaks the nipples, shoves one hand under his ass although he knows Charles doesn't feel much of it. They have a history of using sex for stress relief. Charles groans and grabs Erik's erection, making Erik hiss and grind against him, and Charles instinctively opens himself to the deep bond that connects their minds and lets them blend into one when they come to completion.

He falls into a void.

There is nothing at all where Erik's mind should be. He gasps and pushes deeper but there is only emptiness, and Charles' mind draws back in horror while his body is trapped under a man who weighs him down and thrusts into his hand and suddenly feels like a stranger. At least in Paris he truly was a stranger.

Erik kisses him roughly and finishes with a grunt, and Charles releases a shuddering breath. It seems to pull Erik out of his post-coital bliss; he stills for a few seconds, then leans up and meets Charles' eyes with a frown.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't feel you," Charles admits unsteadily. "You must have noticed. We weren't…" He pauses. Erik begins to dab his come off their chests, waiting. "It felt as if you were wearing the helmet," Charles adds eventually. It sums up his feelings well enough, because the helmet is brutal and terrifying and Charles hates it with a passion. He never wanted to feel its void again, and always feared that he would.

Erik leans down to kiss his temple. "We'll deal with this tomorrow," he says quietly. "Let us sleep now."

But sleep is far from Charles' mind.

 

The next day there are riots all over the country. Militant mutants set cars on fire, get into violent fights with the police and march the streets with protest signs that declare their support of Magneto. Erik does not comment on the news, his mind distant like a vague memory of the helmet before he disappears to take his morning run. Charles and Hank have a slice of toast on the living room sofa to watch the TV specials. It is six in the morning and the students are still asleep, but Charles can sense they are restless.

"We're rushing into a civil war," Hank groans and leans his head into his furry hands.

"This is insane." Charles stares at the pictures of Sentinel prototypes while the reporter explains how the voices who demand the continuation of the program are getting louder by the day. "Something's wrong here. Hank, this is all happening too fast. It doesn't feel... natural."

"You still think that, don't you?" 

Raven is standing in the doorway. She is clutching her coffee cup, and dark circles under her eyes tell of a sleepless night. "Listen to Hank," she says sharply. "This is war."

"I didn't say that." Hank looks up with a frown. "We're not there yet, something must be done to stop it."

"And how do you think you'll do that? Look at yourself, Hank, no one's going to listen to you, you're _blue_ …"

"I noticed," Hank retorts icily. "We've been there, Raven, I thought we'd agreed that we can't win a war!"

"So we just let ourselves be slaughtered?" She laughs, but it sounds hollow. "Sometimes I forget how oblivious you are. You'll still be smiling when they come to murder you…"

"Well, _someone_ needs to stay rational about this, but if you'd rather listen to Erik…"

"That's enough," Charles interrupts them sharply. "Raven, I assure you we are taking this seriously. And we're all worried about Janos."

"He's not the only one," Raven says bitterly. "There have been murders and disappearances everywhere. Remember what happened last time, Charles? What they did to those who fell into their hands?"

It is not like he could forget. "We'll find him," he returns stubbornly, but Raven just laughs. 

"We said that about Azazel too," she snaps before she turns on her heels and slams the door. Hank crosses his arms and slinks deeper into the sofa cushions, radiating frustration. Charles puts his teacup on the side table with a clatter.

"Help me with Cerebro?" he offers, and Hank gives him a grim smile.

 

At half past nine the mayor's secretary calls to inform Charles that the appointment is canceled. He must understand, the lady on the phone tells him apologetically, that considering the current situation and with the increased security demands, and so on and so forth, other duties take priority. 

"Don't tell me you're surprised," Raven snaps when Charles slams the receiver down in an uncharacteristic fit of frustration. 

They meet for a status assessment half an hour later in Charles' office. Before anyone speaks Charles can tell that there is no good news, and as if that wasn't enough of a problem, the atmosphere in the mansion is humming with nervous tension. The students were supposed to take a trip to the zoo with Hank and Janos; now they are playing croquet on the grounds, but no one is paying attention. Janos' disappearance did not go unnoticed. 

"I talked to Logan," Hank informs the rest of the staff. "Tempers are running high. He doesn't believe that things are going to improve any time soon, and people say..." His gaze flickers briefly to Erik. "They say Magneto's back. I mean we heard that before, but they seem really sure of it. We know it's not true, but apparently someone is giving a pretty good impression of him."

"I'm right here," Erik growls.

"The problem is that we don't have much to go on," Charles muses. "We don't know who we're fighting against. If there was a way to force them out into the open..."

"We should know who we're fighting against," Erik interrupts him. "The terrorist attacks are one thing, but don't you see how your precious humans react to that? Why do you think your appointment was canceled? They like to pretend they're tolerant and good, but now we see it's all for show."

"It's not all of them, surely," Charles retorts angrily.

"It's not all of us either, but what difference does it make?" Erik crosses his arms over his chest while the teaspoons rattle in their cups. "I tried to play by your rules, but what else needs to happen before you see that they don't work? They're killing our people, they're going to use the Sentinels again, they took our _friend_..."

Hank clutches the armrests of his chair so hard that one of them breaks with a snap. He throws the piece of wood on the table without even bothering to apologize. "So what do you suggest?" he demands instead. "You think you'll finally get your war? We've achieved so much..."

"What good has it done?" Raven interrupts him heatedly. "I don't want my son to grow up in a world where mutants are murdered on the streets! And you, Hank, they'll come for you, they won't care for your kind heart or your doctorate degree..."

"Perhaps he's got a bit of serum left, so he can go back into hiding," Erik remarks snidely. 

Hank slams his cup onto the table and jumps to his feet, towering over Erik in all his blue, feral glory. _"I. Don't. Hide,"_ he snarls with bared fangs. Erik holds his fierce golden gaze, looking unimpressed.

Before Charles can tell both of them to shut up and get their act together, the room is filled with a heart-wrenching feeling of distress. It is Jean's particular brand of distress, and sure enough the girl is standing in the door-frame, wide-eyed, with a wreath of poppies wrought into her blazing red hair. She lingers for a moment, then turns away and runs down the corridor.

Hank curses quietly. "I'll handle this," he says and follows her, closing the door with more force than necessary.

Charles is left with Erik, who is silent and angry, and Raven, whose mind is stretched thin with worry and exhaustion. After a moment his sister sighs and gets to her feet. "We have to fetch Alex and Scott from the airport," she says. "I'll take Hank with me. You two hash it out. We don't have time for your shit."

That was supposed to be my line, Charles thinks as he watches her leave. Yet when he looks at Erik's stony face and touches the void that replaces his friend's mind, he realizes with growing despair that he has no idea how to make this right. 

 

Alex and Scott do not arrive as scheduled.

"Yes, I'm sure," Raven snaps over the tinny connection of the airport payphone. "We asked at the information when they didn't show up. They never checked in in Miami."

Charles' free hand tears a poppy petal into small pieces.

"He didn't call," he says, needlessly.

"Listen, Charles, Hank and I'll just stay here, okay? There's another plane from Miami coming in three hours. Maybe they got delayed."

She doesn't have to say what could have delayed them. Charles grits his teeth.

"I'll look for them," he decides. "You have a coffee and then see what you can do."

"Tell him we've got this," says Hank's voice in the background, and Charles is glad that at least the two of them are still talking. He ends the connection and makes his way towards the elevator.

He is half-way across the hall when Erik's presence slams into him. Fear and anger flood his mind, and Erik's voice cuts through his thoughts like a knife. _Tell me you can do something about this!_ it demands, full of fury that cannot cover the edge of panic.

Charles looks around, but Erik is nowhere to be seen, and then the presence disappears as suddenly as it came. He stretches his mind, but there is no one nearby. The hall is silent and empty.

 _I'm trying,_ he replies to no one in particular.

Again he gets the uncomfortable feeling that something is moving in the shadows, but when he looks harder, there is nothing to see.

 

He reaches Cerebro without further complications. His temples pound as soon as he pulls the switches, but he ignores them. He must look for his friends, and perhaps he will find Alex and Scott in a safe place without a phone, so he won't have another burden to add to his frantic worry over Janos. He skims mind after mind, but they aren't at the hotel, they aren't at the airport, they aren't…

And then a searing pain makes everything fade to black.

He gasps for air and struggles to cling to consciousness. Blood gurgles from his ripped throat while his body convulses in agony, but the pain fades quickly, pulses out of him with every beat of his heart. Only the cold remains, only darkness, and the last thing he hears is a scream that comes from a great distance.

Then he sees a body crumpled on the floor, empty golden eyes in a lifeless blue face, thick fur soaked with blood. It covers the floor in a large puddle and drips from the hands of his sister who is screaming and shaking the dead man, _Hank, no, please,_ but it is already too late.

Charles pulls back in desperate denial but there is no time, because his mind is swept away and drawn under like a wave.

_Rage._

He has never felt such a murderous rage, and he knows vaguely that it is not his own. He is not the person who lashes out in violent hatred, aiming only to destroy those who did this, the one who doesn't care which of them pulled the trigger because they all must die, every broken neck should be a vicious pleasure but it is not enough, it is never enough. 

Charles fights for control and tries to push through to his sister.

_Raven!_

She does not even acknowledge him. Her mind is an incoherent wail of pain and fury.

_It's useless, Raven. Come back. Bring his body if you can._

_Fuck off, Charles!_

_I need you here. We will avenge him. Please!_

She ends the connection abruptly. Charles pulls off the helmet with shaking fingers and buries his face in his hands.

 

Raven returns an hour later with blood all over her naked blue form and her mind shut firmly against Charles' touch. "I burned him," she says and disappears into her room.

Charles remains sitting at the kitchen table and stares at Hank's teacup.

He is not prepared for the hand that smooths over the back of his neck and starts to rub his shoulder. It is Erik, and he looks pained and disturbed but again Charles cannot touch his mind. This is entirely wrong, and he knows he should address the problem.

"I can't feel you," he points out.

"I'm sorry, Charles," Erik tells him quietly. "I know how much he meant to you."

 _I doubt that,_ Charles thinks, but he does not say it. Talking like this reminds him of their discussion on the plane, where Erik said many things but didn't mean them. Or maybe he meant them but didn't plan to act according to them, and Charles didn't know because he didn't have his telepathy.

"We will avenge him," Erik says darkly. Charles feels the hair in the back of his neck rise. He said the same to Raven, but he does not like the tone of Erik's voice. Without their connection he cannot tell what it means.

"I am going back to Cerebro," he decides and slips away from Erik's touch. "We still need to find Alex and Janos."

Erik doesn't follow him.

Charles wheels mechanically along the corridor, enters the elevator Hank designed, returns to the lower levels that hold the labs and Cerebro, Hank's sanctum and his own device of power. They spent weeks on the design of this place, hours of discussion, endless calculations, thick folders with blueprints and technical drawings, huge amounts of tea and coffee and cold pizza. It kept them both going, back in those first months after Cuba. 

Now Hank is gone.

Charles dons the helmet again and searches for hours, mind after mind, hundreds of them, humans and mutants. He does not find his friends.

 _This doesn't get us anywhere,_ says Hank's voice in his head, frustrated and worried.

Charles runs a hand over his eyes and decides to take a break.

 

As soon as he leaves Cerebro, he knows that something is wrong. The mansion feels empty. No, not entirely empty; there is a presence in the front hall - Raven, furious, shouting at someone he cannot grasp which means that it is probably Erik. But no single student is left in the building.

He hurries up the elevator and finds Raven and Erik facing each other at the foot of the stairs. His sister's mind is a whirl of emotions that make Charles' head spin; he can hardly distinguish fury, disbelief, betrayal and anguish. Her hands are balled into fists, yellow eyes red-rimmed from the tears she did not allow anyone to see.

"He has a teleporter," she informs Charles without preamble. "He has taken them away. Make him tell us where they are."

The world around Charles slows down.

"For safety," Erik says. "We can't protect them here." 

This is not true. It is not right. The students are gone and Erik has a teleporter, and the implications go further than that because people say Magneto is back. Suddenly Charles feels like he is watching his own life as a bystander, disengaged, with mild curiosity.

"Erik," he says calmly. "I want to know where my students are."

"Wraith has taken them to a safe place," Erik replies. Charles heard that name before, John Wraith, one of Logan's friends, and that explains why they were so sure about Magneto.

But this means that they were right all along.

"I'd like to judge that myself," Charles says slowly. "I won't believe Magneto. Never again."

Erik looks at him with the same expression he wore at the beach, broken-hearted and determined, and Charles knows that it is over. All those months of reconciliation, the gentle words and heated fights, the tender hope of a new beginning, a future with the man he loves: all those crash down before his eyes, leaving only the desolation of one cursed afternoon on a tropic island, of pain in his back and tears on his face and his legs a dead weight while Erik takes everything he wants and walks away.

 _I thought you loved me,_ he thinks. Erik winces.

"To think that I admired you," Raven spits, outraged. "I _idolized_ you! Now you're sacrificing us all for your stupid crusade..."

"This isn't stupid," Erik snarls. "It's necessary!"

"You started this!" Raven's skin has turned a dark shade of blue and begins to flicker, as if she is hovering on the verge of transformation but cannot settle for a form. Charles has never seen her so livid. "We were doing fine! We were _happy_! This is your fault, you killed him..."

"There are always casualties in war," Erik retorts, quickly regaining his composure. 

"You don't give a fuck about them, do you?" Raven starts to advance on him, graceful and dangerous like a gorgeous blue lizard. "They're just chess pieces to you, and Hank, you never liked Hank..."

 _This is wrong,_ Charles thinks frantically, _something is completely off..._

"I will never forgive you," his sister announces fiercely. "I will make you pay for this, I swear."

"Then," Erik says quietly, "you leave me no choice."

He draws a small revolver and points it at Raven's forehead. Both Raven and Charles freeze.

"I cannot afford a mortal enemy," Erik elaborates, "it would endanger the cause. I will not allow that."

"Erik, no,'" Charles says, horrified, but that never stopped Erik whose head is still an empty space, as if he was wearing his helmet, except that he isn't.

"I'm sorry, Mystique," Erik says, an eerie echo of things he said before, and Raven's eyes are wide and disbelieving as she realizes what is about to happen. "Stop him, Charles," she pleads, again, and he cannot, _again._ The bullet hits her right between the eyes.

The sudden agony makes Charles scream, and something inside him breaks. Through a haze of tears he sees his sister's body crash into the phone table, blue and beautiful and with dead yellow eyes, and the vase of summer flowers shatters beside her.

When he looks up at Erik - at _Magneto_ , cold and strong and merciless - he cannot remember how he ever felt anything for this man but primal, burning hatred.

"You killed her," he chokes. Erik smiles, but it is merely a twisted parody of compassion.

"She was a liability," he says. "You failed, Charles. You want to save the world, but you cannot even protect the people you care about. Look at you! Look what's left of your dreams!"

He does not have to look; he knows that he has nothing left to lose, and the knowledge makes him dangerous, much more so than Erik has predicted. With clinical precision his thoughts slide into the blank space that hides Erik's mind, and though he cannot feel it he just grabs and pulls viciously. Erik has no time to defend himself. He crumbles to the ground without a sound, a look of surprise still etched upon his features.

 

Charles stares at his empty shell and wonders if he should kill himself too. He must inform Logan first; someone has to look for the students, and Logan is friends with Wraith. He will not call Kurt, not now that everyone he loves seems to be doomed. The boy is safer with his human family.

A presence nearby interrupts his brooding. It is not human, it is powerful and malevolent, and definitely telepathic. Charles wonders briefly if he cares, and decides that he doesn't.

"Charles Xavier," says the presence without actually speaking aloud. When Charles ignores it, it adds, "Glad to meet you at last." 

Charles looks up with an effort. A shadow is looming over him, large, vaguely humanoid but made of a dark haze, except for the burning red eyes.

"Who are you?" he inquires listlessly, and then, because the idea crawls into his brain, "Is this your doing?" 

"No, Charles," the creature replies in a deep voice that makes him shiver. "It is yours." 

Charles clenches his jaw. "You did not say who you are."

A wave of dark amusement floats through his mind. "I am you, Charles," the voice says. "I am your fears. I am your nightmares. I am your dark desires, everything you tried to hide for all these years. You can say that I made you do this, but ultimately...," it gestures at Erik's still body. " _I am you._ You cannot run away from me."

Charles tries to swallow the pure horror that threatens to choke him. It was a lie, it was all a lie; he did his best, didn't Logan say his best would be enough? - but it was not, and he failed all those he meant to protect. Now they're all gone, and Erik... but why did Erik betray him?

He looks at his friend's body as if it holds the answer, even if it is just a well of agony. Erik looks peaceful in death. His eyes are closed and his features softened, and his right hand is curled loosely around the stem of a poppy.

The poppy was not there a minute ago.

Raven's body looks unchanged, except that her blood seems brighter. Unnaturally bright, in fact. It has very much the same color as the flower in Erik's hand. That is fitting in a way, Charles thinks glumly, because the poppy is a symbol of death.

It is also a symbol of sleep.

The thought takes a long moment to sink in. Hope begins to bloom in the back of his mind, and he whirls around to face the creature.

"None of this is really happening, is it?" he demands breathlessly. "You said you are a nightmare. You aren't real! That's what my mind is trying to tell me all this time!" 

"I am as real as you make me."

"But this is a dream!"

"Your dream, Charles, a hallucination born from your deepest fears. Can you be sure what was real and what was not?"

No, he thinks desperately, and he casts out his thoughts that are trapped in a dream, anxious to find a resonance. He pushes through a haze of darkness and panic and pain, until finally something brushes the corner of his mind. There they are, and they are calling for him: Erik, Raven and Hank, alive.

_Charles!_

_Oh God, Charles, stay with us..._

_Something's happening, his brain waves..._

He cannot quite reach them, but their presence gives him strength.

"You're lying," he snaps at the thing. "They aren't dead. They're all alive. And I don't believe you're a part of me, either. What are you, then?"

The shadow solidifies and moves closer, still black and shapeless but suddenly a lot more menacing.

"You are a clever man, Charles Xavier," it says. "But it is the truth that I am a part of you. I am a part of everyone. I am the collective nightmares of humanity - and mutantkind, if you insist on the difference. I feed on your fears. Your darkness makes me strong. I call myself the Shadow King."

"Fascinating," Charles counters, though the words fill him with dread. "And what do you want from me?"

"I have not walked among humans for a long time," the voice in his mind growls. "Now I desire to do so again. But to achieve that, I need a host."

"You want my body," Charles says tonelessly.

"Your body and your mind." The voice is little more than a whisper. "It is an exceptionally powerful mind. With your telepathy and intellectual prowess, no one will be able to stop me."

So that is what it comes down to, Charles thinks with grim determination.

"If you want me," he says aloud, "come and get me."

The creature moves with surprising speed. It doubles in size and rushes towards him and suddenly Charles' mind is flooded with paralyzing terror. He hears a scream that is probably his own; blackness surrounds him and he fights to break away, but he cannot feel his legs. His mind stretches further and further until he is not sure there is a body left, but he is trapped and there is no escape and he lashes out in panic…

… and then suddenly, unexpectedly, his legs obey him. His dream body dashes out of the wheelchair and escapes the black cloud with ease. His movements are fluent and graceful as he turns around to face his foe, all terror gone the moment he slipped out of the Shadow King's reach. He raises his arm to eye level because he can feel it tingle with power, while the room around him vibrates as though a thought from him could make it explode.

His arm is blue and scaly. So is the rest of his body.

 _Hold on,_ his sister says inside his mind, and it means that his friends are with him now. The shadow hesitates for just a second before it turns on him again, but the moment of confusion is all Charles needs. "You are as real as I make you," he snarls in Raven's voice before he raises the other arm too. Raw power flows from his fingertips as the metal around them obeys his command. There is an exhilarating beauty in the way the magnetic fields rearrange in response to his wishes, like Northern Lights that float through his mind, colorful and ethereal. Anger was always the driving force for Erik, but Charles feels nothing but wild joy as he tears down the chandelier, rips out doorframes and lifts his own wheelchair. Every piece of metal in the room is hurtled against the shadowy creature, which is still solid enough to collapse under the attack. "You have no power here," Charles says triumphantly as he steps towards the Shadow King, brimming with strength that is not just his own. The creature makes a horrible wailing sound as it shrinks and shrivels on the ground. It writhes for a moment, lashing out towards him in a last, desperate attack, but he stands his ground. "I am not afraid of you," he says, and the shadow shatters into a million pieces.

He has only a moment to enjoy his triumph before everything turns black. 

 

**Six days later**

"What I still don't understand," Erik says, placing his rook on the board with more force that strictly necessary, "is how he managed to sneak into your mind."

Charles leans back in his chair, considering both the game and the question. It is easy to think rationally of it now, while the sun warms his skin and children's voices are floating up to them from a more distant part of the gardens. Erik's mind is a constant presence on the edge of his awareness. The scent of freshly mowed lawn makes him slightly drowsy.

"I let him in," he says. "There was a crack in my defenses. Hence, the open window."

Erik snorts, but refrains from commenting on the interpretation of dream imagery.

"Anything you can do to prevent it from happening again?"

Charles shrugs. "I'll be on my guard, but you of all people know that we're never completely safe."

A spike of annoyance nudges against his mind as Erik glares at him.

"He latched onto my fears," Charles continues thoughtfully, "And my love. I don't think I can get entirely rid of either, so..."

"You fear that I could betray you?"

Charles takes a knight into his hand and turns it slowly, considering. The black rook wobbles in its place.

"I don't think you would do what you did in my dream," he concedes eventually. "That was the Shadow King's doing. He took my fears and amplified them, making them come true in the most horrible way. He was trying to drive me insane." He looks up to meet Erik's eyes. "But to leave me for the sake of mutantkind? Can you swear that you will never, ever do that?"

There is a long silence. Charles watches two sparrows hopping on the sun-warmed terracotta floor, fussing over the cake crumbs left by the children. He is not particularly bothered by Erik's hesitation; it is no use pretending that these are easy answers. They know each other better than that.

"I would," Erik admits. "Except that we are stronger together, when it comes to saving mutantkind. But there are limits. If they took my family..."

He leans forward, body and mind tense with intent.

"If I lost you like that... you and Mystique and the others... You know what I would do."

There is no need to spell it out. A bereft Erik could be a danger to the entire planet. 

"We'll do what we can to protect each other." The words conjure a painful memory, but Charles still manages a smile. "You wanted that all along, didn't you? You told me that. In Cuba."

"You remember." Erik turns his coffee cup in his hands. He doesn't smile back; Charles can feel distress radiating from his mind. "It didn't work out."

"We can do better this time."

"Perhaps." Erik reaches out and clutches Charles' hand. He looks sad and serious, much like he did on the plane to Paris, but this time Charles can sense the sincerity behind the words. "We can't be sure. But I will never again betray you or abandon you to your fate. You don't have to fear that."

"What if we disagree?"

"Don't we always?" They share a smile, and Erik runs a gentle thumb over Charles' knuckles. "I'm not saying we should do everything together. I have my methods, you have yours. But whatever happens, there will be no more betrayal. I'll always have your back."

"We'll hold you to that," says Hank, and they turn to see him leaning in the doorway with a jacket under his arm. 

"Raven and I are on our way," he announces. "Alex's plane will arrive in two hours."

"Splendid." Charles watches Hank's blue features and allows himself to be grateful. The violence of his friend's death still resonates in his mind, even if he knows now that it was merely a manifestation of his own fear that he might be unable to keep his furry companion safe. Hank is visibly, undeniably different; he will always be at risk. If this worry is to be one of Charles' weak spots, so be it. His friends feared for him too while he was catatonic on his sickbed, trapped in his own mind for two days, yet they don't treat him like he was made of glass. Such is the price of caring if one lives a life like theirs, but they cannot let their fear control their actions.

"Yes, good," Erik interrupts his musings. "See that you don't take too long. Mystique still owes me a game of croquet before dinner."

"Raven's bad at croquet," Hank objects. "Don't anger my woman. She'll take it out on me."

"And how's that my problem?"

"I'll show you how." Hank grins and deftly catches the spoon Erik sends flying into his direction. He shoves it into his pocket and turns to Charles, suddenly serious.

"We all have your back, Charles," he says. "You've told us what happened in the dark future. Now we know better. We won't let it happen again." 

"We could always encounter an enemy who's mightier than us," Charles admits. "If the Shadow King had been able to overtake my mind..."

"But he wasn't," Erik interrupts, "because you were not alone."

"That is true." Charles leans back in his chair with a smile. "I'm not alone." 

He lets the presence of his friends wash over him, Hank's relaxed and content, Erik's sharp and vigilant as always. They may not be close, exactly, but they are much more comfortable around each other than they used to be. Somewhere in the house Raven is impatiently toying with the car keys. Olga's mind hovers next to her, clearly amused, sharing a joke to make her relax. Janos plays soccer with some of the students in the front yard, which appears to be great fun though Janos is slightly worried about the windows. In the cool shade of a jasmine bush Jean is scribbling on a sketching block, concentrating on her swift, elegant pencil strokes: She is drawing a poppy. Her mind briefly touches Charles' when she senses his approach, questioning. 

He reassures her with a thought.

Because sometimes, he thinks as he closes his eyes and lets the summer sun shine warm on his face, a poppy really is no more than a poppy.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from Edgar Allen Poe's poem " The Sleeper". It is a mourning poem for a lost lover and so it deals with death, but the surreal atmosphere, the delicate line between waking and dreaming, life and death, eternal peace and ghostly unrest fit this fic very well.
> 
> The Shadow King and John Wraith are loosely inspired by their comic counterparts.
> 
> ETA: The latest Apocalypse rumors make me want to ... say something which I'm going to say once I'm not spoiling anyone. :)


End file.
